The Call
by Court
Summary: A late night phone call could be the turning point for Patrick and Robin. I'm reposting this story, because I changed it's format from bold print to regular. Sorry about that! Thanks for all previous reviews.
1. Prologue & Part One: I Don't Want to be

**Title:** The Call

**Author:** Court

**Rating:** PG-13

**Summary:** A late night phone call could be the turning point for Patrick and Robin.

**POV:** Sometimes it's Patrick's, sometimes it's Robin's, sometimes it goes back and forth between the two. Marks will indicate a change, when necessary.

**Author's Note 1: **First of all, I want to thank everyone for their support on **More Than a Memory**. I'm going to use that one shot as a prologue to this story, since the very basis of this story stems from the ending of it. It will consist of 3-5 parts.

**Author's Note 2:** I know what you're thinking - first she says that she's going to continue MTAM, then she says she isn't and NOW she's writing a second part to it? Well, I wish I could tell you something more creative than the simple fact that I have a tendency to act nuts sometimes. Forgive me. LMAO!

**Song Credits:** "More than a Memory" by Garth Brooks.

Prologue - More Than a Memory

_People say she's only in my head  
Gonna take time, but I'll forget  
But when she's in every minute of every day  
Every thought I think  
Every breath I take  
She's everywhere and she's everything  
She's more than a memory_

He was cold. Not the kind of cold that stems from lack of heat, making you crave a steamy cup of coffee or a toasty fireplace; the kind that makes you numb inside. It was like a part of himself was gone forever and it wasn't in his power to get it back. The sense of loss he felt only seemed to intensify each day, until there was nothing left but a hole. This hole could be filled by many things he knew, but nothing that would ever mount to anything meaningful. Because what had once been there was something that most people never got to have even once, and through the chain of shattered hope that was his life, he had failed to be stronger than his fears one time too many. There would never be another like her. He would never know the utter bliss of simply being with her, yet finding himself more at peace in those moments than any he had known in the days prior, when he was a content man walking around with a void in his heart. Now, having come full circle, he wasn't content at all. And what was once a void was now a piece amongst a thousand others, left shattered...broken inside of him. Their razor sharp edges had once hurt like the fires of hell, like a gaping wound left impaired. But now, there was nothing. Nothing at all. And he had only himself to blame for it.

Sitting on the park bench he once shared with her, he recalls his own words that seemed to depict an ideal life for the both of them...together. Always together. It wasn't a perfect life, but the closest to one he or any other man could hope for. Yes, he had been on top of the world that day. Almost losing her and having her again...he felt blessed and thanked God for granting a desperate man's prayer on a darkened street one terrifying night. He had vowed to the Almighty and himself that he wouldn't let her go and that he'd always keep her safe, and now, nearly a year later - he had failed on both accounts. To be that man with that beautiful woman again...lazing around in bed doing a crossword puzzle, eating french toast and making love all day...to be there again...he'd trade anything. Give anything. Deep down inside, he knows this. But as the soft sprinkle shifts to a raging downpour of water from above, thunder thrashing in the air around him, he closes his eyes in defeat. The sun wasn't out, the sky wasn't blue and there were no flowers blooming around him. It was a harsh reality, but a reality at that: there was nothing to trade, because everything that mattered was her. She had been everything. His everything.

The wind howls, the trees hiss and together they act as a song against the silence that has surrounded him since the moment she said goodbye. He rises, seeking shelter from the storm, the sheets of rain like needles on his body. It seems like hours pass before he happens upon a small church, the tiny structure appearing amidst the chaos as if from nowhere, for his own benefit. She would have liked this place, he thinks, instantly cursing himself and whoever else was to blame for the perpetual connection she seemed to have to everything both directly and indirectly involving his life. It was always about her, and it had been that way since she had burst through those OR doors and professed him to be her miracle. Like a shimmering, brilliant star, she had become the center of his world. And even though she was no longer his, that hadn't changed...and it probably never would. Imagining her fascination with the classic features and the story behind it she'd most likely make her mission to discover, he smiles to himself. The memory of her face in these moments would always bring a smile to his.

Reaching for the handle on the left hand side of the set of doors, he pulls and is met with resistance. Trying the other side, he's met with the same fate. The towers of oak seem to mock him as the rain shows no signs of letting up, but he refuses to give up. Walking around the side, he happens upon a window. Luck ever on his side, the small frame would barely fit a child, much less a tall man. But the whispered sound of music soon reaches his ears, and instead of walking away, he allows his curiosity to guide him. Wiping first at his face and then the foggy glass before him, his vision remains blurry, but the canvas set before him is mainly clear: a wedding was going on inside. About fifty or so guests sit in the modest yet magnificent room, set aglow by dozens of tapered candles scattered throughout the space. Countless flowers kissed by a rainbow added charm and elegance to the floor, the altar and the empty threshold that would soon frame the bride.

Though he can't make out their faces, he can't seem to tear himself away from his spot, outside looking in. It's a mere moment before the guests are rising to their feet, turning in the direction of the doorway for the first glimpse of the lady of the day; the lady in white. His gaze starting at the ground, the tips of her shoes peak out with each unhurried step she takes, two other pairs of black in plain view on either side of her. The candlelight creates a shadow in the folds of her dress, the gentle v of her skirt flowing like satin pearls. Both of her arms are tucked into another's, guiding her down the aisle to give her away. Her smile is exquisite...familiar. Her face...her face...

"Robin," he mutters in disbelief, placing his hands on the window and leaning in closer. Unlike the others, he could see her lovely features as he had almost everyday for the past two years of his life. The dark, silken hair that he had ran his fingers through at every opportunity was down and twined in soft waves, a red rose pinned near her right ear. The rich, glorious brown eyes that had once told him more than her words ever could glittered with unshed tears of happiness. The ravishing smile that lit up her whole face and once teased him before a sweet or sultry kiss now beamed at the faceless man at the altar that wasn't him. The love of his life was about to marry someone that wasn't him!

Suddenly, as if he were a snow ball that had been tossed into a fire, panic sets in and all he can think is that he is watching the end of his life happening right before his eyes, and he has to stop it. Starting with his hands, he begins to pound his open palms against the window with all his might. "Robin!!!!!!!!! Robin, don't do it!!!!"

But she doesn't stop. It doesn't stop. It just keeps going and it's as if no one is hearing him. His protests go unnoticed, and he watches in horror as Robin looks to the faceless man and begins to speak her vows. "ROBIN STOP!!!!!!!!! ROBIN!!!!!!"

His heart racing a mile a minute, his blood roaring in his eardrums, he wails into the night, the faces in the church slowly coming into view, one by one. "MAC!!!!!!!! ROBERT!!!!!!!! ANNA!!!!!!!!! PLEEEEASSSSE SOMEBODY!!!!!! DON'T ROBIN, PLEASE!!!!!!! I LOVE YOU!!!!!!!! I'M SORRY!!!!!!! DON'T DO THIS, ROBIN!!!!! ROBIIIIN!!!!!!"

The agony of what felt like his worst nightmare becomes a pain so intense that it cripples him, and he can no longer fight against the torture of it all. The words trapped in his throat, tears and raindrops beading his face...he has no choice but to surrender. Wincing as the faceless man bends down and captures his Robin's lips in a kiss that makes her officially not his - but another man's - he still can't bring himself to look away. Perhaps it's because he needs to know the face of the man that took what mattered most to him...his Robin. The time comes at last as Robin takes her new husband's hand and turns her head to meet his eye through the barrier of the window. As he suspected, the man he would now and forever dub his worst enemy looks towards him as well.

The man was Patrick Drake. The man...was him.

Shooting up in his bed, drenched in sweat, Patrick feels as though he's run a marathon. Every night this happened. Every night since she left him. The dreams were always different, but this one definitely stood out, above the rest. It was true that he had already lost Robin, but as long as she was still out there and he was still out there and they were both unmarried...there was still a chance. He wasn't an expert on the subject or anything, but he knew that what they had was something that only happened once. He wasn't naive enough to believe that he could find that kind of bond with another person ever again. He had simply resigned himself to the fact that he would have to live life as he once had, before Robin. Because nothing would ever be better than the life she had shown him; the life they had experienced together. He had told her that on more than one occasion, and he had meant it.

Kicking the sheet away, he swears. He blamed the bed. It held too many memories. This apartment held too many memories. After all, she had picked it out for him, as well as the furniture in it. And the damn couch was even worse! It would be impossible to count the number of times they'd made love on that couch...the floor...the kitchen counter...the kitchen floor...the bed. Back to the blasted bed. How could he sleep in it and not think of her? Be haunted by dreams of her? Of what might have been? Of what should be? It didn't matter where he was, though. She was always with him. No matter what he said about their breakup, about how he was moving on...it just wasn't true. No amount of time or meaningless flings could erase her from his heart...his mind...his soul.

The guilt nagged at him relentlessly...it was his fault. And he knew that the ball was very much in his court. If he would stop being a selfish, scared moron for two seconds and get over himself, his ultimate fear of crashing and burning - of failing like his father - he could have it all. He knew it, and he still did nothing. But as his latest dream had pointed out to him, Robin wouldn't wait for him forever. She would never admit it to him or maybe even herself, but she still loved him, too. And she was still hoping that he would go out on a limb for her and be the man she wants him to be...needs him to be...a husband to her, and a father to their children.

Yes, he was a coward, indeed. Robin deserved better than him. But even as he claimed what he always felt in his heart to be true, the selfish guy inside of him knows that even that isn't reason enough for him to make himself fully let her go. Robin had taught him to live through his heart instead of his ever brilliant mind, and Robin was his heart. Without her, there was no true life to be had. Even a career as one of the top neurosurgeons in the country wouldn't fulfill him in the ways it once had. His perspective had been changed. Love is all that matters - that's what he had started to believe. But if that were true, then why wasn't Robin with him now? Why was he alone in what he had come to think of as their bed for months? Why couldn't they just be together and not think about the future so much? Logic told him he knew why.

Dropping his head between his knees, he breathes in and out, trying to calm himself down and force the tears that are threatening to spill over to disappear. Looking up, he gazes at their picture across the room, sitting atop his dresser. It wasn't a special occasion, just an ordinary day. Well, ordinary for them. It was one of those Sundays where they'd spent the day alone...that particular day in bed mostly. Pressed cheek to cheek, their smiles wide and eyes dancing with laughter, he remembers and cherishes that moment and all those before and after that he spent with her. And he yearns for more.

Reaching for the phone, he dials her cell phone number with every intention of telling her just that, but stops himself before he hears the connection. She'd probably just hang up on him anyway...

Or not. Hitting the redial button, he waits...and waits...and waits. As her voice mail picks up, he listens to the cheerful sound of her voice, finding comfort in that unintentional gift alone. Debating with himself on whether or not to leave a message, he finds himself speaking the words he felt but couldn't or wouldn't say to her face. "Robin, it's Patrick. I don't know if you missed this call or if you ignored it..." looking towards the clock, he sees that it's after three, and groans, "by the timing, I guess you're sleeping. I'm calling because...I can't...I can't sleep. The truth is, I haven't had a good night's sleep since the last time you were here with me...and I keep dreaming about you. I was looking at our picture...the one on the dresser...we were really happy, weren't we? How did we lose that? I don't know...I just...I needed to talk to you...my best friend. My only real friend. I just...needed to hear your voice, Robin. I just...miss you. I love you...I love you."

Whatever words he had left say went unsaid as he pressed the off button on his handset. His tears never went away and now left stains on his cheeks, his tongue tasting the salt of them as he bites his lip to stop it from trembling. Placing the phone back in it's cradle, he stretches out once more and adjusts the blankets over his lower body. Rolling to his side, he takes what used to be Robin's favorite pillow and wraps his arms around the plush object...instead of Robin. The intoxicating scent of her still remains, a delicious mix of vanilla and roses. No one could ever be what Robin was and still is to him...and he didn't want them to. He just wanted Robin, because he was lost without her. His home was no home without her. She was his home.

* * *

Part One: I Don't Want to be a Spinster! 

Steam lingers in the air, licking the walls of the small bathroom, the beads invisible to the naked eye, overshadowed by darkness and soft flecks of candlelight. The space was immaculate, just as the rest of her apartment was. No shaving cream remnants on the sink, no towels on the floor. Scents of lavender and honeysuckle tease her nostrils, as opposed to the rich, heavy scent of cologne. The stereo whispers tunes of classic rock, sitting atop the small wicker table beside one candle…one towel…one glass of wine. The magnificent tub cradles one person…her. She, Robin Scorpio, who six months ago had been surrounded by two's was now drowning in one's. Even this personal treat that had once provided solace was now a mere reminder of just how alone she had once again become.

Perhaps it was because taking baths and showers together had become part of their routine. It was usually one or the other, everyday, for as long as she could remember. Or maybe it was simply because they had a morning ritual in their much larger bathroom…his much larger bathroom. They'd brush their teeth, then he'd assist her with taking her meds, while she'd lather him up for a shave. Yes, that was it. That was why she was thinking of him now, doing anything but relaxing.

"Jerk," she growls lowly, bringing the chilled white wine up to her lips for a taste. Six months, and he was still with her. Still in her thoughts, still shaping her heart. And the worst part about it was, he had become her friend before they had become lovers. He had become her…person. Her confidante. In breaking up with him, not only had she lost a boyfriend…she had lost her best friend. Apparently, judging by the message he had left her not so long ago…he felt the same way.

That message. That lovely…wonderful…beautiful message. The vulnerability she'd heard in his voice those few moments had brought tears to her eyes…made her weep. It was a vivid reminder of why she had fallen in love with him in the first place…as if she needed one. She'd felt adored…safe in his arms, in his eyes. It was a feeling she'd experienced before…but not really. With Patrick, it was different. It was a happiness that surpassed her wildest dreams, even on the bad days. Perhaps that was because even when they were less than friends…mere coworkers, acquaintances…he fought for her. He never gave up on her. He was relentless and arrogant and refused to leave her to fall back into a life that, career aside, added up to just about nothing. And for all the times that she'd acted as though she didn't believe in him or trust him to stay with her…that tiny voice inside of her reminded her of those things. It reminded her of the fact he so desperately wanted her to believe: he wouldn't abandon her like the others.

But he had abandoned her. No…they'd abandoned each other. Sure, she'd said the words. She shattered his heart, and he shattered hers. Not with lies, not with betrayal. Just the truth. That ugly, unfair twist of fate that was destined to keep them apart then, now and always. Different dreams…different life goals. To her heart, it all sounded like a bunch of bullshit, but in her mind, the part of her that was logical…it just couldn't work. They were fundamentally incompatible, as she'd always told him. Well, at least in the most important way she could imagine: she wanted children, and he didn't. When neither one was willing to budge on the issue, how could they move beyond it? Compromise?

Closing her eyes with a shudder, she tilts her head to the side and bites down on her lip that has taken to a slight tremble. Upon reopening them, she catches a glimpse of her silhouette, turning away quickly to abolish the image that was not of herself and the man she loved. Never again would she look to the walls and see her shadow tangled with his. Never again would she feel the marvelous felicity of lying against his chest, wrapped in his arms and treasured by his lips, his hands…his heart.

A sudden wave of cold rushes over her, and she scrambles to get out. Grabbing for her towel, she folds it around her body and knots it in place. She yanks the chain to drain the water and blows out the candles placed throughout the room. Near empty wine glass in hand, Robin pads her way to her dresser, and automatically picks out a fresh pair of underwear, sweat pants and one of Patrick's old t-shirts she'd come to possess somewhere along the way, in the past two years.

Dressed comfortably, she walks into her kitchen and washes her glass, leaving it to dry on the rack beside her sink. Opening her freezer, she grabs a pint of Ben and Jerry's, a spoon and moves to flop down on her couch. Taking that first delicious bite, she turns her gaze from the boring sitcom on her TV screen to her coffee table. There sits her remote…and her cell phone. The cell phone with Patrick's voice mail from two months ago still on it. The voice mail that she had yet to delete, that she listened to at least once a day…though she'd never admit it to him.

Decidedly swiping up the remote, she takes another bite and stops at the sight of Renee Zellweger and Colin Firth in one of her favorite movies, Bridget Jones Diary. Funny and romantic, just what she needed to relax…not.

Grabbing her cell phone, she punches a few buttons until she hears the voice of Dr. Kelly Lee on the other end. "Kelly, I don't want to be a Spinster!"

"Robin?" Kelly's confused voice comes through the speaker, making Robin giggle.

"I'm sorry! Yeah, it's Robin."

"What did Patrick do this time?"

"Nothing…everything. What else is new? I mean, gosh, Kelly - I just wanted to take a bath! You know, have some wine, soak in some bubbles, forget my troubles? But I kept thinking of Patrick! I kept thinking of him and all the different ways we used to be together in the bathroom -"

"Whoa - too much information!"

Robin laughs. "This coming from YOU? Seriously? Anyway, I was talking about brushing our teeth and him helping me with my meds, not sex on the counter! I mean, that happened, too, but -"

"Stop!"

" I know, I know. Too much. It's just - GOD! He's - EVERYWHERE! Kelly, he's everywhere! He's at work, he's at home. And he's never even been to this apartment! Which, by the way, sucks! I mean, I'm the one that picked out his apartment! That thing is a palace compared to this hole in the wall! I think he should move out, and we should trade apartments, that's what I think! It's only fair! Am I right?"

"Honestly?"

"Yeah?"

"I think that you 'hate' your perfectly acceptable, perfectly nice apartment because you miss your home aka Patrick's apartment. That's why it took you four months to decide on a place."

Torn between being amused and suspicious, Robin shakes her head, as if to clear it. "Hold on a second - is this really Kelly, or did I dial Lainey by mistake? Or is she just listening in and feeding you lines?"

Laughing, Kelly replies, "No, it's me. I guess our Dr. Winters is rubbing off on me - we've been hanging out a lot. She's the only person I have to talk to anymore, you know. My good friend Robin is always working or hiding away in her pathetic little apartment."

"I know," Robin groans, slapping her forehead in dismay. "I told you, I'm going to be a Spinster! I'm going to star in Bridget Jones Part Three, only it's going to be called Robin Scorpio and it's going to suck, because sequels always suck! And I'm going to gain thirty extra pounds, stuffing my face with Patrick's favorite ice cream! I'm going to turn into a Chunky Monkey! And I won't have two hot guys fighting over me, either! I mean, Hugh Grant was a douche bag, but he was still cute. Kind of like Patrick. UGH - it always HAS to go back to Patrick, doesn't it? He's such a jerk! But I love him anyway. Does that make me crazy? Does it?!"

Met with nothing but silence, Robin checks the screen on her phone to check for a dropped signal. "Hello? Kelly?" Suddenly, a high pitched sound burns her ear and she pulls her phone back. "Are you LAUGHING?"

"No," Kelly poorly fibs, choking on her giggles.

"You are! You're laughing at me!" Robin fumes. "I knew I should have called Lainey!"

"You're right," Kelly agrees, her laughter dying down. "I love you, Robin, but you should hear yourself! Maybe I should record it, then play it back for you sometime. That would probably cheer you up!"

"You're out of your mind!"

"Well, I guess that makes two of us, then."

Grinning, at last finding the humor in the situation, Robin agrees, "Yeah."

"Robin?"

Robin notices that Kelly's voice appears more serious, and listens intently. "Yes, Kelly?"

"I'm not trying to tell you what to do, or how to feel, and I know that this isn't what you were hoping to hear when you called me up, but…"

"What?"

"What you and Patrick have…it's special. It's not one of those cheesy, unreal fairytale loves that you see in movies or on Lifetime Television…it's real. It isn't easy. When you guys fight…you rip each other up real good. But when you love…that's something pretty great. And I'd be lying if I said I'd ever seen anything even remotely close to it, even in dealing with babies and parents everyday. There's a respect and an understanding…like something inside both of you knows that you're supposed to be together. And I think…that's why it's so hard. It's why neither of you can move on. So, if there's a way - any way that you two can work this out…stop being stubborn. That goes for Patrick, too. Do it for yourself. You told me once that Patrick not only gave you back your life, but he made it better than it ever was before. That's not something that comes along everyday, or even more than once in a lifetime, Robin. So, fight for it. And do whatever you can to make Patrick do the same. Otherwise, it just makes you both fools."

Rendered speechless, Robin can only think of two words to say as Kelly's wisdom begins to sink in. "Thank you."

Smiling, Kelly teases, "I'd say anytime, but I'm better at the fun stuff. Gossip. Lick It, Slam It, Suck It."

"I think you're better than you think you are," Robin challenges fondly. "Night, Kelly."

"Night, Robin."

Hanging up, Robin navigates to her voice mail, and listens to the one saved message in her box. Allowing his voice to comfort her, she finds herself whispering his final words, tears staining her cheeks…coating her lips as she does. "I love you…I love you."

Two hours later, Robin finds herself backpedaling. After talking to Kelly and listening to Patrick's message for the fiftieth time, she turned the television off and headed to bed. Alas, sleep refused to come. She tossed and turned and couldn't shake off the sounds of her friend, nor her ex. Jumbled together, they quickly began to drive her crazy. In a fit of annoyance, she'd kicked the covers away and stalked back into her living room. For the past ten minutes, she'd been in the same spot, pacing the floor in front of the small table that held her house phone. She'd stop, look at the phone for a few seconds, then begin pacing again. To call him…or not to call him?

Making up her mind, Robin takes the handset in both hands and dials his number. When it begins ringing, she raises up on her toes and bends her knees, one at a time, releasing her nervous energy…waiting.

The second he picks up, she hangs up.

Still holding the phone in her hand, she curses herself for acting so stupid. And it only gets worse when a mere ten seconds later, it begins to ring.

"Shit," Robin moans, holding the phone up and away from her, willing it to stop.

But it doesn't, and when the machine clicks on, Patrick's voice comes through - panicked and demanding. "Robin! Robin? Are you there? Are you okay? Are you hurt? If you can hear me, please pick up! I swear, I'll come over there -"

Eyes widening in alarm, Robin interrupts his rant by pressing the power button. "Patrick, Patrick. I'm here! I'm okay! Don't come over!"

"Thank God!" He sounds relieved at first, but then spits out harshly, "Are you trying to give me a heart attack or something? There's a damned serial killer on the loose and you're calling me in the middle of the night and hanging up without a word!"

"I know," Robin sighs, thinking of Georgie and Emily for a brief moment. They'd lost their lives, their chances at happiness and love through no fault of their own, and here she was alive and in love, willing to throw it all away because the man she loved knew what it was like to be abandoned too, and couldn't give her what she wanted as a result. Or wouldn't. Did it really matter? It didn't hurt any less either way. "I'm sorry."

"Me too," Patrick echoes, his voice normal, softer. "I didn't mean to shout. I just…worry. It's not the same when I'm not there to protect you all the time…not that I was ever good at that when we were together."

His reference to the MetroCourt disaster makes her frown. "That wasn't your fault, Patrick. Nothing that Craig ever did was. It was all him."

"I wish I could believe that as easily as you, but since we're clearly never going to agree on it, I guess we should just agree to disagree."

"Fair enough," Robin concedes.

"So…why did you call?"

Tossing a throw pillow onto the floor, she props it against the side of the couch and sits, legs out in front of her. "I was just returning your phone call…"

_To be continued…_

THANKS FOR READING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


	2. Part Two: Let's Pull an AllNighter

I'm horrible. I'm terrible. I know, I know. I promised an update like - well...a while ago. LMAO! But ya know, life happens. But I'm going to try my best to get these out quicker, for your sake and mine - as I am trying to get two other ideas down on 'paper' as well. I appreciate the WONDERFUL feedback from all of you. It means so much to me. Thanks so much!!!!

A couple of things:

1.) There is no whatshername in this fic. As far as I'm concerned, she fell down an elevator shaft back in July before she started making regular appearances again in August or September or whenever it was. If you're not a violent person, pretend she got transferred to the basement like the stapler guy on Office Space.

2.) This is a little bit shorter than I originally intended it to be, but I'm trying to do each part from either Patrick or Robin's POV. This one is Patrick's, but what comes next I need to write when it's Robin's.

Part Two: Let's pull an all-nighter

He couldn't think straight. The words on the paper appeared jumbled and out of focus to him, partly from lack of sleep, partly from disinterest. Propped against a mountain of pillows in his empty bed, the brilliant doctor was drawing a blank upon studying the patient's chart before him. The hour wasn't severely late, but his mind was on other things. One other thing in particular, anyway: Robin.

He probably needed to have his head examined. He was clearly losing his mind, little by little. Once upon a time, he'd been driven…inspired. Certainly before meeting her, but even more so after. She'd been his muse of sorts, his partner. And having experienced that sort of excitement, the void of that challenge made even the most interesting cases seem dull. Ordinary. Without her, the thrill was definitely gone.

Turning his gaze from the file on his lap to the bare space beside him, Patrick's thoughts drift to a happier time, when instead of rumpled bed sheets, he'd find a beautiful woman…the most beautiful woman he'd ever known…Robin. Whether she was wearing boxers and one of his t-shirts or a slip of sexy lingerie, she never failed to take his breath away. What made her even more alluring to him was the absurd fact that she didn't see herself the way he did. A radiant, modest blush would always follow a compliment, no matter how many times he'd said it before. He missed the softness of her long, chestnut hair tangled about his fingers…he missed her smile - how it could light up her whole face, and yank at his heart strings. Most of all, he missed her eyes. Big, brown and full of truth…all the things she neglected to say…or couldn't at the time. One look could comfort him, envelope him in peace…in love.

How many nights had they sat together like this? He couldn't recall. There were too many. They'd start out against the headboard, at a respectable distance, working semi-quietly, only talking when asking or answering a question. But soon, what began as a perfectly innocent act would result in clothes being strewn across the room, papers and books being tossed onto the floor and doctors becoming lovers…joining in a fierce passion he'd only known with her, before and after. They simply couldn't get enough of each other - from the beginning, in the middle and even at the end. Their need, their desire never faltered. He missed holding her…being held by her…touching her…being touched by her…making love to her. He'd never felt more connected to another person, and it was a feeling that he longed for now that it was gone.

Swiping a hand across his face, he groans in irritation. He just couldn't let her go. No matter how much time had passed, his love for her just wouldn't fade. And while a part of him insisted that he needed to move on, as she seemed to be doing so, another part wanted to keep hanging on forever. In loving her, in sharing his life with someone for the first time…it was the greatest thing he'd ever done. No matter how much it hurt now, he still believed that to be true. For having known that glimpse of true, unexpected happiness, he'd known the best days of his life. And if nothing else, those precious memories would hold him until he breathed his last breath. Presently bitter and angry with the world, in that respect, he still considered himself to be quite lucky. As his father had once told him, he'd been loved by an amazing woman, and he'd lived alone. The former was definitely much better.

The only difference is, he's still loved by that woman. She's still here, on this earth…waiting. Or was she ? Had she given up? Tired of waiting on him to change - be who she wants him to be for the sake of their future? He really was a perfect imbecile. His mother was probably looking down on him and glowering. If she were here, she'd give him a hard time, just like Robin. She'd tell him to stop being stupid and be the man that she raised, and not the one that she unwittingly left behind, scarred by her death and the unfortunate events that followed it. She'd tell him to learn from his father's mistakes, and not repeat them. She'd tell him everything he already knew, but couldn't seem to find the nerve to trust.

The soft buzzing of his phone vibrating snaps him out of his trance, and back to reality. Tossing the folder onto the bed, he reaches over to the nightstand and picks it up, answering it automatically, not bothering to look at the caller ID. "Patrick Drake."

Instead of hearing a response, the line goes dead. Furrowing his eyebrows in confusion and annoyance, Patrick pulls the phone away from his ear and looks at the screen. "Robin," he mutters, jumping up from his place on the bed to his feet as if he'd been bitten. In the six months they'd been broken up, he'd only seen her. He hadn't received one phone call from her. Not even after his embarrassing late night confession to her voice mail. In fact, she never even mentioned it to him. So, why the hell would she be calling now? And why would she hang up? Unless…

"Oh God," Patrick breathes, frantically pressing the necessary buttons to call her back, pacing the room as he does. "Pick up, Robin. Pick up. Come on, Robin. Please, pick up. Please, be okay…" After the fifth ring, he hears her answering machine click on and begins to plead into the phone. "Robin! Robin? Are you there? Are you okay? Are you hurt? If you can hear me, please pick up! I swear, I'll come over there -"

A split second away from hanging up, throwing on the first set of clothes he can find and bolting out the door, he checks himself when Robin's voice abruptly comes through. "Patrick, Patrick. I'm here! I'm okay! Don't come over!"

Relieved beyond words, he exclaims, "Thank God!", but soon finds himself caught in the fear of the moment and lashes out, "Are you trying to give me a heart attack or something? There's a damned serial killer on the loose and you're calling me in the middle of the night and hanging up without a word!"

"I know…I'm sorry."

She sounded incredibly vulnerable, and sad. And he felt like an ass. "Me too," he echoes, lowering his voice. "I didn't mean to shout. I just…worry. It's not the same when I'm not there to protect you all the time…" What a joke. Protect her? From who? Craig? Well, he failed on that account not once, but twice. She'd been taken hostage, shot, and forced to lie to everyone she cared about and he couldn't do a damned thing to stop it, no matter how much he loved her. "Not that I was ever good at that when we were together."

"That wasn't your fault, Patrick. Nothing that Craig ever did was. It was all him."

It scared him how she could read his mind, even now. She knew him better than he knew himself. "I wish I could believe that as easily as you, but since we're clearly never going to agree on it, I guess we should just agree to disagree."

"Fair enough."

Dropping on the edge of the bed, he licks his lips in thought and asks the only question he can think of at the moment. "So…why did you call?"

"I was just returning your phone call…"

"What phone call? I don't remember -" Realization hits him, and he stops short of finishing his initial thought. "Ohhh…"

"I know it's absurd. It's been two months and I never even said anything about it -"

"No, it's okay," he insists quickly. "Better late than never, right?" he adds with a shy chuckle.

"Yeah, I guess so…"

There's an awkward silence that lingers for what seems like hours. He hates this. He hates not knowing what to say to the one person he's come to share everything with. He misses her so damned much.

"Robin?"

"Yes, Patrick?"

"Was there - is there something that you wanted to say? Or are you just trying to think of a nice way to tell me to lose your phone number?"

"I'm sorry, I just - hate this." Sighing in frustration, she explains, "What you said…in your message, I - I feel the same way. I miss talking to you…I even miss you telling me how wrong I am…I miss the sound of your voice. It's stupid, I know, but gosh, I - I just feel so -"

"Alone? Miserable? Lost?" He offers words that describe his own feelings, not caring at the moment what putting himself out there might cost him. And really - what did he have left to lose?

"Yeah," she confirms, her voice raspy with emotion. "I just got used to us, I guess. You've been there for so long now, even before I realized I wanted you to be…when it was all I wanted and I denied it anyway, just so I could protect myself from you."

"I did the same thing. I kept telling you that I was afraid of hurting you, but you knew different. You knew it was about me."

"We were both cowards."

"We wasted a lot of time," he declares, his tone regretful. Just like we're doing now, he adds to himself.

Laughing fondly, Robin hums. "I like this."

"Me too," Patrick agrees, standing and moving towards his dresser, tracing his thumb over the image of her cheek. Closing his eyes briefly, he yearns for the warmth of her skin beneath his touch, instead of the cool glass of the frame holding a constant reminder of what once was, and would never be again.

"You know what we never did?"

"What's that?"

"Pulled an all-nighter."

"Oh contraire," he teases, glancing back towards the bed, his mind replaying vivid memories of the two of them doing anything but sleeping in it. "I recall many days where I could barely keep my eyes open at work because you'd kept me up all night in bed."

"Patrick," she gasps, "get your mind out of the gutter! I wasn't talking about sex!"

"Nice to know I can still shock you," he laughs, walking out of his room, towards the kitchen. "What then?"

"We never had one of those nights where we just stayed up all night and talked. You know, tell each other our deepest, darkest secrets. Eat junk food. Laugh. Cry. Maybe even argue. What am I saying - it's us - of course we'd argue!"

"I'm sure you're right," he snickers, flicking the light on and walking towards the fridge.

"I've never done that with anyone, you know. But I always wanted to. Especially with you."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I guess…I guess it's because you were always so honest with me about everything. Even if it hurt sometimes, you always gave it to me straight. You never treated me like I was fragile. You made me feel like….me. That it was okay to be me."

"You did the same for me," he vows. You still do, he thinks, refraining from saying it aloud. He wants so badly to say all the right things. He wants to tell her so much - all the things he wishes he would have said when they were still together. "We could, you know…"

"What?"

"Pull an all-nighter."

"Yeah?"

"Why not? I mean, I know we're not a couple anymore -"

"But maybe that's better," she cuts in. "I mean, that way there's no expectations. We can just say whatever we want to say…whatever we need to say…and we can just hang up. We can forget this whole thing ever happened if we want to."

"Okay," he nods, his response enthusiastic. Thinking for a second, he asks, "Should I go first? Or did you want to ask me something?"

"It doesn't really matter, I guess…"

Another bout of silence stretches on as they both ponder who should make the next move. But before too long, Patrick finds himself sinking down onto a barstool - food forgotten - the words coming through his lips before he even realizes it's happening. "Your pillow…it doesn't smell like you anymore. It used to smell like roses…and vanilla. Sweet. Not too sweet, though. Not heavy either. I could always tell when you'd been somewhere before me…like you were unintentionally leaving a part of yourself behind so you'd always be with me. But uh…it's gone now. And when I hold it every night…instead of you…I realize how much I miss the little things about you, too."

Sniffling, Robin opts to recite her own confession, instead of countering his. "Over the past two months, I've listened to your message so many times I've lost count. Everything you said…was so beautiful. I know it couldn't have been an easy thing for you to do, and I know I didn't make it any better by pretending like it never happened. It was rude of me, and selfish and it hurt me so much to do it, because I knew that it was hurting you, too. I wish…I wish I had an answer for you. I wish I knew why we got here…how. Maybe it's supposed to be glaringly obvious, but if it was that simple - surely it wouldn't hurt so much, right? It hurts SO MUCH, Patrick," she chokes on a sob, "I can't even breathe most of the time. Everyday, I have to tell myself to breathe in and breathe out and get up and get dressed and go on!"

"So do I," Patrick divulges, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I dream about you. I know I already told you that, but it keeps getting worse. I keep losing you, Robin. Over and over and over again. I wake up, and you're not there anymore. I reach out for you, and there's nothing. Part of me wants to stay awake forever just to avoid another nightmare…but another…another just wants to keep falling asleep, just so I can be with you. I hate being away from you, more than anything. I hate having to see you everyday, knowing that I can't have you anymore. And most of all, I hate myself, because I know that it's my fault."

to be continued...

THANKS FOR READING!!!!!!!


	3. Part Three: I Wouldn't Change a Thing

Thanks for the replies, everyone. It's much appreciated.

The Call

Part Three: I Wouldn't Change a Thing

The storm came seemingly out of nowhere, like a car spinning out of control, around a corner like a bat out of hell, shooting into an unsuspecting fellow driver. Somewhere in between the silence and the raw words of love and brutal truth, the town had been crowned by a dark cloud. Raindrops smeared the windows carved into the doors leading to her balcony. Lightning lit up the sky at random moments, an echo to the thunder that lashed at the night like a whip.

It only took a few minutes, but just as it started to settle down, her electricity went right down with it. And since Robin was using her land line, she lost her connection with Patrick as well. She didn't have enough time to debate on whether or not to call him back, though, as it took a mere thirty seconds for her cell phone to light up, his name appearing on the caller ID.

"Hey, sorry about that. My electricity just went out," she explains into the phone, walking over to the window to peak outside at the wreckage. "Is yours still on?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe it's a good thing, you know?"

"What do you mean?"

"Things were getting kind of…heavy."

"That's the point though, right? Or did I misunderstand the rules of the game?"

Moving to light the candle on her coffee table, Robin strikes a match and places it to the wick, carefully pulling it back and blowing one flame out as another ignites. Reaching for the forgotten pillow on the floor beside her couch, she stretches out on her rug and lays flat on her back, resting her head against it. Biting her lip in thought, she looks up at the ceiling.

"It is. And I guess…no matter what we talk about, it's bound to make us sad, right? We're talking about us…when there is no us anymore…"

If it was possible, the shattered pieces of her heart that remained jagged and worn inside of her broke a little more at her own words as she spoke them. And what made the ache even greater was the very real possibility that he had been hurt just as much by them; though she couldn't see his face right now, she could imagine the look of utter torment that was surely sketched upon it. It was the kind of anguish that only a man in love could suffer.

"I'd prefer to think about when we were, if you don't mind…at least for a little while. Otherwise, I'm not sure I can take much more of this."

"Okay," she agrees, twisting a strand of her hair about her fingers absentmindedly. "But I just need to say one more thing."

"What?"

"It's not your fault. Well, not entirely your fault anyway…" Taking a deep breath, she starts over. "I know…I know I've done a real good job of making you think that it was all your doing. That you failed me in some way. That because you couldn't or wouldn't have a baby with me it meant that you never really loved me. And it's not true. Not even close. When we were together…and even now, when we aren't anymore…you make me feel more loved than any person ever has before in my whole life." Swallowing down her fresh onset of tears, she continues on, just above a whisper. "We quit on each other. We broke our own rules."

"Walking out is acceptable, giving up is not," he softly recites from memory. In that moment, she can see them in his old room, her own voice saying the words…taste the sweetness of the kiss that had sealed the deal.

"They sounded simple enough at the time," she attempts to joke, failing miserably. "Patrick, I just…I just don't want you to feel guilty. You shouldn't. I don't want to change you. Who you are…it's why I fell in love with you. The good and the bad. I just…thought you should know that."

"Thank you," Patrick replies, his voice unsure. "And for the record, I feel the same way about you. I wouldn't change a thing. You're as close to perfect as a person can get, Dr. Scorpio."

"Oh, you mean I'm not perfect?" Robin chides, smiling in spite of herself, and their current situation.

"Uh, sorry, but any woman that squirts ketchup on top of a steak cannot possibly be perfect."

"Oh, but a man that puts half a bottle of ranch on his salad is? I'm sorry, doctor, would you like some salad with your dressing?!"

"Hey, you can never have too much ranch! And when did I say that I was perfect?"

Rolling her eyes, Robin laughs. "Oh, please! Mr. Ego?"

Chuckling, he concedes. "Yeah, yeah."

"Hmm," she hums, her spirits suddenly high. She missed this.

"I miss this," he says, as if he's reading her mind.

"Me too."

"Your lights still off?"

"Yeah. They probably won't be back on until morning. That's what happened the last time anyway."

"That sucks."

"Yup."

"Hey, remember that one night? The blackout?"

"Like I could forget that," she huffs. "It was quite an eventful night."

"Yeah, I acted like a jerk, but somehow managed to get you to feed me anyway."

"Like I said then, you were allowed. You had a lot going on. That's not really what I remember anyway…"

"What do you remember?"

"I remember how wonderful you were with April. I remember how amazing you were to her…and to me. I remember laughing with you…eating chocolate cake with you…dancing with you…"

"I remember you telling me that I could never hurt you…how you kissed my hand…I wanted you so damned much. The way you looked at me, I…I was lost. It scared me to death…"

"I remember you coming to my door and looking all flustered…telling me in your own way to give you time. I laughed it off and tried to make it insignificant, but…it wasn't. I was falling in love with you, and all I wanted was for you to fall in love with me."

"I was…I just…couldn't say it. I wish I would have. You have no idea how much. Especially now. We -" Patrick stops, swearing under his breath. "We wasted so much time. Not just then…but before. And that was my fault. Because I couldn't be honest with myself and admit that what was going on between us was more than I bargained for. No - no…that 's a lie. I knew. I knew what was going on between us. I knew way before we ever went to that cabin that you meant more to me than anything, anyone did or had since my mother died. I just ran away from it. Just like you said I did. And now look at us -"

"That doesn't matter now, Patrick. We still would have ended up here," she interrupts, sadly.

"It does matter. Don't you see, Robin? If it only meant one more day - one more day that I could have told you that I loved you. One more day that we could have lived together. One more time that I could have kissed you…made love to you, knowing how I felt about you…embracing it and you and maybe even making it a little bit harder to let go."

"How?" She laughs humorlessly, rolling over onto her stomach. "How could this possibly get any harder than it already is? Tell me, Patrick, because I'd really like to know!"

It was rhetorical question, so it didn't surprise her when he merely continued on without answering her. "That day in the cabin…I'd never experienced anything like that before. Not with anyone. The way you felt…the way you feel…it's like you were made for me to touch you…like I was made to touch you. You're the only woman I've ever made love to."

"You always made me feel beautiful. Sexy. Certainly nothing that I ever thought I was or could ever be because of my HIV. Maybe even before that. No one ever made me lose control like you. I felt free…alive. Safe to do anything I wanted…be anything I wanted. But mostly…just me. I could be me and not be afraid of it."

"It was never just sex for me, but I loved being close to you in that way."

"I'm sure the hospital supply closet, my lab and just about every surface of your apartment would have to agree with you on that," she teases, blushing.

They had been one of those insatiable couples. If they were fighting, makeup sex soon followed. If they weren't, it was part of their daily routine - like taking a shower together every morning or eating Mr. Chang's every Friday night. And oddly enough, it only got better over time. Each experience seemed to be more powerful, passionate and memorable than the last. To say she missed being with him would be an understatement: she'd gladly give up chocolate cake or Mocha Fudge Ice Cream Bars for the rest of her life if it meant she could have one more night with him; feel the weight of him on top of her, the gentle yet strong feel of his hands on her body, his hungry, searching lips on her skin…the utter perfection and unbelievable pleasure of having him inside of her.

His mind must have been entertaining the same thoughts, because it's not long before the silence is disturbed by the clearing of his throat. "Umm, maybe we should -"

"Change the subject?"

"Yeah."

"Good idea," she raves, suddenly fully aware of the lack of cool air in the room.

There is silence on both ends as both sides contemplate where to take the conversation next. Again, it's Patrick that speaks first.

"Okay, I've got it."

"What?"

"I want you to tell me about Jason and Carly."

Stiffening in reaction to his suggestion, Robin raises up on her elbows and furrows her eyebrows in confusion. "I already told you about Jason."

"No. Not everything. You've told me the good, but you skip right over the bad. And the history with Carly is only in bits and pieces. I want it all. I want to know what that bastard did to you to make you leave your home, your family and run to Paris and stay there for seven years."

"Why? Why now?"

"Because I want to know. I think at one point I deserved to know, but since we're no longer together, I'll just say want. And need. I think it's part of what kept us at a distance, even when we were a couple. A big part."

"Patrick -"

"I'm right, aren't I?"

"Ye - yes -" she stumbles over her words, wanting desperately to leave the past in the past. "But -"

"Tell me, Robin. Please. You said it. You made the rules. You said anything and everything."

Pondering his question, she suddenly thinks of one of her own. "Okay, Patrick. You win."

"I do?"

"Yes, you do. I'll tell you about Jason."

"And Carly."

"And Carly -"

"Oh, no. There's a 'but' isn't there? I can feel it coming."

Robin can't help but laugh at his apprehension. "You're absolutely right, Dr. Drake."

"Alright, let me have it…"

"I will tell you about Jason and Carly - if YOU promise to tell me about your mother."

To be continued…


	4. Part Four: Enough

**The Call**

**Part Four: **Enough

* * *

Maddie Drake had been a true, classic beauty. An All-American girl with long, curly brown hair and eyes as big as her heart; it wasn't hard to figure out how she had inevitably tamed the infamous bachelor, Dr. Noah Drake. But the allure didn't stop with her looks, which was what made her so mesmerizing. The small town, southern girl was incredibly generous, and kind to any creature that she crossed paths with. But still, she wasn't all sugar and sweetness. She was a fighter. She was courageous. And just as quick as she'd blow you a kiss or pat you on the back for a job well done, she'd give you a swift kick in the ass for an act of stupidity or disrespect. A force to be reckoned with, Patrick's mother was beloved, and remembered, by many.

At thirty years old, Patrick had only loved two women in his life. Maddie had been one of them; Robin the other. Not a day goes by that he doesn't think of her…miss her. Thinking about her now, in this moment…tears fill his eyes. Perhaps it was foolish of him, but more than a decade after her passing, he was still mourning the loss. Then again, he never truly got to do so back then. He'd been too concerned with playing into his drunken father's disappearing act, then picking up the pieces, locking them inside himself…the shattered fragments of his world tucked away, like a newly sharpened knife, waiting to strike at unsuspecting victims at anytime. A cocky smile and a personality that spoke volumes of how much he didn't care about anyone or anything but himself was a mere mask, hiding the person that was broken and bleeding…if someone, anyone…would dare to look. Really look. Up until two years ago, no one had. Until then, he'd walked around a shell of his former self, desperately seeking distraction from his miserable, lonely assistance. Until Robin…

"Patrick?"

He hadn't realized how quiet he had been, or for how long, until the sound of Robin's voice came through amidst his thoughts…thoughts she had inspired. She wanted him to talk about his mother. It was only fair, he reckoned. He had asked her about Jason and Carly. And it was high time they stopped dancing around their tortured pasts and figured out a way to move on from them. Clear the air, and make peace.

"I wish you could have known her…"

"Your mother?"

"Yeah."

"Me too," she admits, softly.

"When I told you before, that you reminded me of her…I meant it. You two would have gotten along so good…"

"She'd approve?"

"Most definitely. I can't tell you how easy it is to imagine you ganging up on me with her. And you would have."

"Probably," she laughs.

"She was a waitress at a restaurant on Bourbon Street in New Orleans. My dad was down there for the weekend, partying with some old college buddies during Mardi Gras -"

"Sounds strangely familiar," she drawls, causing Patrick to roll his eyes, good-naturedly.

"Do you want to hear this story or not?"

"Sorry. I couldn't resist."

"I'll bet," he chuckles. "Anyway - he went in there, she waited on him, he flirted, she called him a jerk, he flirted some more, and she ended up pouring a pitcher of beer over his head."

"Oh, yeah. Your mother and I would have gotten along tremendously well. You do realize I did the same thing to your father when we first met? Well, almost."

Patrick was absolutely stunned. "You poured a pitcher of beer over my father's head?!"

"Not beer - water. And it was only because he was passed out on -"

"Of course," Patrick sneers.

"Stop that right now, Patrick Drake! Your father is sober now. That's what matters."

"You make it sound so simple," he remarks, dumbfounded, shaking his head in disbelief.

"That's because it is, Patrick. At least your father is here now. Mine's off on some mission - God knows where - anywhere but here with me, after pretending to be dead for half of my life. You'd think he'd be here, trying to make up for some things, but he's not, now is he? But your father is. He wants to make things right, and I know that you do, too. Don't waste the time that you have being bitter and unforgiving. You need him, and he needs you."

Robin was right, but it still wasn't an easy thing for him to admit. "I know…" he whispers, gruffly.

"So, what happened? How did they end up together?"

Taken aback at the quick change of subject on her part, Patrick recovers in record time, clearing his throat and continuing his story. "They fired my mother - right there, right then, in front of my father. He tried to talk them out of it, but it was too late. She was out the door, cursing under her breath the entire way. He followed her out and managed to get her to stop long enough to kick him in the shin."

"Oh my God! I love your mother!"

Half amused, and half concerned, Patrick gulps. "Does this mean I should expect you to kick me in the shin in the future?"

"Trust me, if I was going to kick you in the shin, I would have done it by now. There's been plenty of opportunities." They both laugh. "So, how did they meet up again?"

"The next night, they ran into each other - literally - at a club. My father told me once that he was already in love with her at that point, as crazy as it seemed. He claimed it was love at first sight. And he wasn't about to let her go. He wore her down enough to buy her a drink, and they ended up dancing and talking all night. They closed the place down."

"How romantic," Robin gushes.

"My mom said she fell in love with him that night. It just seemed natural for her to pack what little possessions she had and move back to New York with my father. Shortly after, they got married and had me."

"And they were happy?"

It was an answer she already knew, as he had told her about the way they were, what they were to one another as he was growing up. "In every sense of the word. I mean, they fought. He spent some nights on the sofa. But there was never a doubt in my mind…they were it for each other. The way he looked at her…it was like she was the one thing he would ever really need…that mattered. The way I imagine I look at you…"

"It makes my heart stop. The way you look at me…no one else has ever looked at me like that. It's like you can see everything…inside and out…even the things I try so hard to hide."

"I want to make you that happy, Robin. I don't want you to be afraid. I don't want to be afraid. But I am. We are. And I hate it. I just…want you so damned much."

"I want you, too, Patrick. So much that I wish I could forget how much I want to have a baby with you. But when I see you…think about you…when we talk to each other like we are now…I only want it more. I wish you did, too…I wish…"

Listening to her words, thick with pain and regret, Patrick sighs. Reaching for his wallet on the counter beside him, he thumbs through the photos inside, until he finds the one he had managed to keep with him for the past decade. The one of himself at the age of five, in his mother's arms…his mother in his father's. Glancing at the photo adjacent to that one, he sees a much older version of himself, embracing Robin in much the same way. And for a moment, he envisions a little girl with Robin's eyes, freckles and smile, in her mother's arms…their little girl, in Robin's arms…

"Robin, I -"

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I just -" He hears her sigh into the speaker. "Nevermind. You wanted to hear about Jason. What all do you want to know? Or should I just start from the beginning?"

"From the beginning," he answers, without hesitation. He'd waited a long time for this, and he wanted it all.

"I knew Jason before his accident - when he was still Jason Quartermaine. I had a crush on him, actually. But nothing ever came of it." She pauses, seemingly collecting herself for the emotional story ahead. "After Stone died, I was…devastated. I knew that I had HIV, and at the time…it was hopeless. The protocol didn't exist at that point. I felt alone and scared and…I felt like I had nothing to live for. And Jason…Morgan saved my life."

Curiosity peeked, Patrick raises an eyebrow and asks, "How?"

"I was going to jump off the bridge. And he saved me. And for a while, we were friends. Then we became lovers…and it was beautiful. Alan told me about the protocol and I decided to go to Yale. Just before I went away…I found out that Jason had been sleeping with Carly."

Patrick is torn between wanting to shake Jason's hand for saving Robin's life once upon a time, and wanting to knock him into next week for betraying her and breaking her heart. "That bastard…"

"He didn't know any better -"

"Come on, Robin. The guy might be brain damaged, but he had you! He didn't need to be with anyone else! For that matter, why would he want to?"

"Because I wasn't having sex with him. I was afraid to. And…he's a man. You of all people should understand that."

At this point, all he feels is rage. "Don't defend that horse's ass to me! What he did was wrong, Robin."

"I guess it's not easy to understand how I could understand, but…" Pausing, Robin dismisses the topic. "Nevermind. I got over it, he promised he wouldn't do it again, and I went to school. I visited whenever I could, and during one of those visits…Jason got shot. I was with him. I wanted him to quit the business, but…he refused. So, we broke up, and I moved to Paris."

"But you came back."

"Yes. Brenda was sick and needed me…she was there when I needed her. I didn't plan on staying, but one thing led to another and pretty soon…I was back for good. There was a misunderstanding between Brenda and Jason because of Sonny and it led to me going to Jason, and him telling me that Carly had came to him and asked him to lie for her. She had slept with Jason's brother - AJ Quartermaine - and gotten pregnant. But she didn't want AJ to know about it, because he was an alcoholic. He was my friend, and because of my love for Jason, I had to lie to him about the most important thing that ever happened to him."

"I can't imagine how hard that must have been for you…"

"It was terrible. And things only got worse when another man - the man that Carly also lied to about being the father of her baby - Tony Jones -"

"Dr. Tony Jones?!"

"That's the one," Robin affirms, as-a-matter-of-factly. "Tony had a breakdown and ended up kidnapping Michael. I accidentally found out about it, and decided to try and fix the situation myself…I thought I could talk him into letting Michael go. But he ended up keeping me there instead. I got pneumonia, and Jason found out where we were just as I was starting to get really bad. When I recovered, I testified at the trial, and defended Tony's actions. Carly shot him in the courtroom."

Patrick couldn't believe what he was hearing, yet, somehow…it didn't surprise him all that much. "Did she go to prison?"

"They sent her to a mental institution. Not very long after that, Brenda and Jason were in a plane crash. It made me reevaluate things. When they were rescued, I went to him and told him that I could accept his life, that I loved him, and wanted to be with him. We stayed together for several months…raising Michael…and we were happy. I moved in with him. There was an…incident with a car bomb and Jason left the business temporarily. We even moved into a house, without bullet proof glass. I went to PCU. Jason worked in a shop."

"Hard to imagine," Patrick huffs, hating the images of domestic bliss of Robin and another man that had invaded his mind at her recollections.

"Well, it didn't last. Carly came home, and she wanted me gone. She wanted everything that was mine - including Jason. She lived with us for a while at the cottage, until Jason went back into the mob and we moved back into the penthouse. He got Carly her own place, which he seemed to stay at more than ours. It was all for Michael, he said. Meanwhile, Carly's either trying to redecorate my house or seduce my boyfriend - and he's just letting it happen. I couldn't do it anymore."

"So, you left him," Patrick concludes, with obvious satisfaction.

"Yes. But I also decided that I couldn't stand playing a role in covering up the truth about Michael any longer either. So, I went to AJ, and I told him the truth. I knew that Carly and Jason never would have. They would have kept on lying forever. Jason loved that baby too much, and Carly…well, she's Carly."

"And how did Jason take the news?"

"Not good. I told him, and he was furious. He…yelled a lot. He swept our picture off the mantel and onto the floor…he…he told me it would be easier if he never saw my face again."

"He told you WHAT?"

"You heard me, Patrick."

"Oh, Robin…"

"This is the part where you agree, and you say that you would have been just as angry. That I was manipulative and spiteful and wanted to get back at Carly -"

"I said it once before, and I'll say it again, Robin - I.am.not.Jason."

"I know that…"

All the sudden, Patrick feels ill. His stomach is tied up in tight knots, the bile starting to rise up in his throat. He couldn't be more ashamed of himself if he tried. "I'm an asshole."

"No, you're not," Robin protests vehemently, as if she knows exactly what he's referring to.

"I played into Carly's games. I didn't even bother to ask you why you hated her so much. I should have known better."

"Patrick, how could you have possibly known? Carly is a master at twisting things around and making others look like the bad guy."

"That's no excuse, Robin. All this time I thought that it was something so much simpler, and the two of you were just blowing it out of proportion. I mean, I knew about Michael, to an extent, but…I didn't know that you had to carry that around, and put up with another woman in your house. And one that hated you at that."

"I came out of it okay. For a long time…I didn't think I would be. Hell, I even let myself believe that I was wrong to tell the truth for a while. The entire world was against me it seemed…but then, I realized, the only thing I had done wrong was allow the secret to go on for as long as I did. What we did was wrong."

"Yeah, well, I bet you're the only one that will admit to that. It just goes to show what an amazing woman you are." Patrick felt protective of her in the moment, wanting to shield her from all the Jason's and Carly's of the world. "Don't ever let Carly or anyone else tell you different, Robin. You're better than her. And I'm sorry for ever allowing her to come between us…"

"Well, compared to Jason -"

"It doesn't matter, Robin. I still used her to play games with you. And to think I accused YOU of being childish," Patrick scoffs. "What a damned joke."

"It was a long time ago, Patrick. And I suppose I should move on from it, but I just can't stand to see her do the same things to other people. Carly has never learned from her mistakes, and she never will."

"And Jason?"

"What about him?"

Patrick couldn't bare of think it, but he had to say it. To ask her. "Do you…still love him? Even after all of that?"

"Honestly? For all the awful things that happened back then, I can't forget the good. I might not be here right now if it weren't for Jason. But…we're cut from two different cloths. I thought I could make him into the person I wanted him to be…but I was wrong. No one should have to change who they are for someone else. Believe me, I know - I tried to do it when I went to Jason that day and told him I could live in a life where violence was always lurking around us."

"You hate violence," Patrick mutters.

"Yes, I do."

"And he wouldn't give it up? Even if it meant being with you?"

"Would you give up being a surgeon, if I needed you to?"

"Of course -"

"Don't finish that sentence, Patrick. We both know it would be a lie. And even if it wasn't, I wouldn't be happy about it. It's who you are, Patrick. It's part of the reason I fell in love with you. Your brilliance…what you do to help people -"

"It's not really a fair question to ask, anyway, Robin. Jason Morgan represents everything we're against. His actions are what bring patients into my OR. It's wrong. And it's not the same thing."

"It's what he was taught."

"Yeah, well, meanwhile, twelve years later - he's still doing the same thing. He's worked for the mob long enough to decide for himself whether or not it's worth risking innocent lives, including the people he supposedly loves."

"You're right, Patrick. Jason hasn't changed. And like Carly, he probably never will. And that's why I'm not with him."

"It's his loss, Robin. And my gain," he says, unthinkingly.

"Not anymore," she whispers, sadly. "Right now, it's nobody's gain."

"Robin…" his voice trails off, his heart stung from her words that seemed to lash at him like a whip. "I don't ever want to do that to you. I never want to make you change who you are…even if it means being away from you. I don't want to be the reason why you pack up and leave for Paris again. I just…I just want to fix this."

"How are we supposed to do that without changing, Patrick? I want children - and you don't. One of us is going to have to give up what we want if we want to be together. It's just like Jason all over again -"

It was the truth, but he denied it. "NO! No, Robin. Don't you dare say that. It's NOT the same!"

"Yes, it is Patrick! I wasn't good enough for Jason to give up being in the mob with Sonny, and I'm not good enough for you to make you want to become a father!"

What the hell was he doing to her? How could he make her believe such bullshit? "It's not you, Robin! It's me! God, please, don't say these things. You can't possibly believe -"

"Well, you know what, Patrick? I do! There. That's the ugly truth, out there for you to see. I'm not enough for anyone! Least of all you!"

"You ARE enough Robin! And you're too damned good for me, don't you get it? I'm damaged goods! Who the hell wants that in a husband? A father?"

"And what does that make me, Patrick? My parents supposedly died when I was a teenager, and just when I had managed to grow up and get used to the idea of living without them - they both showed up - alive! You don't think that's done something to me inside? You don't think I'm damaged? That I'm just as broken as you?"

They had so many things in common, especially the things they both wanted so desperately to forget. "I don't want to hurt you, Robin -"

"No! You don't want to hurt yourself! You're selfish, and you're a coward! Why can't you just take a chance for once in your life? Why can't you just have a little faith and trust me? Trust yourself for that matter?"

"Oh you mean like you have faith in me? Like you trust me? I'm paying for Jason Morgan's mistakes! I'm paying for your parents mistakes!"

"Yeah, well, SO AM I!!!!!!!"

Rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand, Patrick drops his head in agony, listening to the torturous sounds of her sobs. It didn't occur to him that he was crying, too. Maybe because it didn't matter…Robin was all that mattered. And he was hurting her. "I'm sorry…I….don't want…I never want to hurt you. God, baby, I just…I just want to…I just want to love you. Take care of you. And you never let me…"

"I know," Robin chokes out, her breath shaking as she utters her confession. "I know I've punished you. I know I didn't give you all of me...but I'm scared…I'm afraid you'll see what they saw…that you'll leave me, too. So, I left you instead."

"We left each other," he sniffs, not bothering to swipe away the tears smearing his lips, wet and salty to taste and touch. "But I haven't let you go, Robin. I can't. And maybe…I don't know. Maybe I've spent my whole life running from something that might be the best thing to ever happen to me."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that you're right. I am a selfish coward. I've been so busy focusing on what happened to my father when my mother left us that I've almost forgotten why he fell apart so tragically."

"Why?"

"Because he loved her, more than he loved himself. The way I love you. And even though he lost her, they still had a life. They had me. And for many years, they had it all. They were happy. They were…complete."

"I want that with you, Patrick," Robin tells him, her voice soft and loving.

Like an epiphany, a light bulb seems to go off in his head, shedding light on everything that had been lingering in the dark. He was making a decision, choosing to take that leap…dive into the deep end…for her, for them. "So do I…"

_to be continued..._

THANKS FOR READING!!!!!!!!


	5. Part Five: Let's just say I'm a work in

The Call

Part Five: Let's just say I'm a work in progress

She remembers the dream like it happened yesterday. It wasn't a new dream, but one that seemed to come to her sporadically as the years progressed and she grew older. It wasn't unique to her subconscious mind, she knew. It was shared by most, if not all women that fancied having it all. Playing the images over in her mind now, she recalls how it once was a bit of a blur. Until the last time - a year ago to be exact - it had been her, walking through the park, a little girl bouncing along the concrete path between her and what had once been a faceless man…clutching onto their hands and smiling up at the sky. The little girl belonged to her, she knew, because she had the same hair, the same eyes. And she belonged to the man, she knew, because of that adorable little dimple that graced her cheek.

The night that Patrick told her he loved her, she dreamt of him this way. In hearing his sweet words of devotion, he had unwittingly removed the last of her resolve to keep him at a distance. And in doing so, she had opened her heart to him as she had yet to do before. And not just to him, but to anyone before him as well. He'd had her heart for a long time, but not as freely as she had given it to him since that moment. Her walls were still in place, but with every minute spent in the safety of his arms, she let them down more and more. Together, the love they had for each other had given her the complete picture to her ultimate fantasy.

Alas, life just wasn't that easy. It never had been. So why should it have come as such a surprise to her when she found out just how serious he was about never wanting to have children? But it had. It shook her to her very core, even though she tried her damnedest to act like it was no big deal in the beginning.. But she wanted to believe that he could change, like he had before about love and commitment. She wanted to believe that he loved her enough to take that risk, even if it was the biggest one of his life. But she had been wrong. And now, here they were. Her heart was like broken glass, scattered in shards deep down inside of her…and still, each tiny fragment still belonged to him. He held the key to her happiness, her future. That's why she couldn't let him go.

She wanted to believe what he was saying to her now, but it just felt too unreal. Too perfect. And they were anything but perfect. They weren't some couple out of a weepy black and white film. No happily ever after through a heart shaped window. Their reality was far less romantic. They both had far too much baggage on their backs for that. That's what the practical side of her chanted over and over again, anyway. But the other part…the part that was connected to her heart…it said that even the unthinkable could be true this time. That's what love did. But love was a guessing game. Chance. A deal that you can make that can cost you everything. She knew that better than anyone.

There was a time when she would have gotten angry with him for saying such things. For failing to give her what she wanted, then turning around and trying to give it to her when she had given up on him ever doing so. But she was too tired for that now. Not physically tired, but emotionally. She didn't like how her heart leapt and rattled against her chest when he made such moves. She didn't like the control he had over her, but she was powerless to stop it. And in some twisted place inside of herself, she knew she didn't want it to. She figured she had the same affect on him. It was very basic….animalistic, yet….beautiful; their connection was as raw as it was poetic. Like a love ballad crooned by a sexy rock 'n roll star.

"Robin? Robin, are you still there?"

Patrick's voice is like a caress, but it jolts her back to reality as if she's been stung. "Yes," she whispers, sitting back down on her couch. "I'm still here."

"I didn't mean to upset you, I just….wanted to be honest with you."

"I don't think you are being honest, Patrick," she accuses, a bit more harshly than intended. "I think that you miss me, and you love me, and you would say or do anything right now to fix this."

"You know what? One of these days you're going to stop telling me how I 'really feel' and I'm not going to know what to do with myself! Maybe you should just do all the talking, and I can just listen intently. At least I wouldn't be called a liar!"

Robin is momentarily stunned by the combination of hurt and outrage in his voice, but recovers quickly with the same tone in hers. "I didn't call you a liar, Patrick! I think you do believe the things that you are saying. I DO! But how am I supposed to believe this sudden change of heart when you practically spray painted 'I, Patrick Drake, do not want to be a father' all over the damn city!? You wanted EVERYONE to know it, including me! Well, guess what? I got the message! LOUD AND CLEAR!!"

"I fucked up, Robin! I know I did. I know I made you feel like you weren't important. Like being some famous surgeon meant more to me than you. But it wasn't like that! It still isn't! That night at the Metro Court, I would have chopped off my damned hand and given it to Craig or anyone else that would have let me get to you, save you! I STILL would! You're IT, Robin! Don't you get it? No matter what I've said, no matter what I've done, all you have to do is look into my eyes and see the truth. You always could. I know you could. You just didn't want to see it. But it IS the truth! You're all I want. You're all I need!"

"And that's our problem, Patrick! You resent me for wanting more than just you. I'm enough for you, but you're not enough for me. Or at least that's what you think when I say that I want a baby, even if it means giving you up to get one. Even if it hurts more than anything I could have ever imagined in my whole life. Having a baby means everything to me. Everything!"

"No, Robin. If that was true, you would have gone out and found your donor by now. You would be pregnant and I'd be a long forgotten mistake. But you love me. And you don't want a baby. You want a family. With ME! Say it. Say it, Robin. I know it's what you want, so, why can't you just let me give it to you?"

Rolling her head back to rest against the top of the cushion, she sighs, deeply, as if she's been holding it in for hours. "Because you don't want it. And I don't want to be the reason you wake up in ten years and resent me even more than you already do for living out my dream, just because you love me."

"I don't resent you, Robin. I could never resent you. How could I? You've given me so much. I can't even tell you what you've given me since the first second I laid eyes on you. You never gave up on me, so, please…don't give up on me now."

"We gave up on each other, Patrick. The day I walked out, we both said the words, and I just did the moving. Hell, we gave up long before that. We were just too afraid to admit it. We both care about winning too much. Neither one of us want to admit defeat even when it's pouring down rain and sirens are going off all around us. We're too stubborn for our own good."

"Not tonight," he responds, softly.

"No, not tonight. But what happens in the morning?"

"We can't go back, Robin. Not after this. We've said too much. Too much is out there now. We've admitted our mistakes and now we can move on. We can be together."

Robin slaps her hand to her forehead, feeling as though it's a brick wall. "Patrick, you're not listening to me! How can we be together when we still want different things?"

"No, you're not listening to ME! I'm telling you that that's not true anymore, Robin! I want what you want!"

Groaning, she pounds her fist into a nearby throw pillow. "Patriiiiiick!"

"Look, can we just pretend for a second here that I didn't go to Vegas? That I didn't act like a royal ass and get on a plane with Pete and go to a bunch of strip clubs - even if I didn't enjoy one damned minute of it? Can we forget that for some reason, you seem to think that I'm going to go back to the way I was when we first met? I'm asking you to trust me, Robin. I'm asking you to go out on a limb and forgive me. To let go of all of that stuff with Jason and Carly and be with me. REALLY be with me. In all the ways you were and weren't before we broke all of our rules and gave up?"

"That's easier said than done, Patrick."

"I know it is. But it's not impossible right? I mean, I've been a coward and I've tried to keep you at a distance, even if that distance lessened over time….and I'm still afraid. But I'm willing to take that leap of faith with you, Robin. I'm willing to live with you, and love you and make babies with you and build a home with you….start our life for the first time…even if it does mean crashing and burning someday. I know I let my stupid fear come between us, and I'm sorry -"

"It's not stupid, Patrick. It's a very valid fear. I told you before that it was. We both have been through a lot. It's not your fault that it's made you cautious."

"Robin, there's being cautious and there's being irrational. I mean, how stupid could I be? I saw my parents, and I envied them. I wanted to have what they had. I'd forgotten how much. And you know why? Because I watched my father fall apart, and I took the easy way out. No commitments, no strings, no problem. Until you. You made me start wanting all the things I'd buried all those years ago. And the more I realized that, the more scared I got."

"And you realized all of this just now? Tonight?"

"No," Patrick admits. "I've had a lot of time to think. And since you've been avoiding me, I've been keeping a lot of things to myself. Feelings. Talking to you tonight has just brought it all to the surface. And yeah….maybe I didn't realize all of this until this moment, but let's just say I'm a work in progress."

Robin laughs, biting down on her lip, the scratchy fringe of the pillow rubbing against her fingers as she toys with it absentmindedly. "That makes two of us, then."

"See that? We're perfect for each other."

He was teasing, but at the same time he wasn't. His words had a double meaning, and again her heart betrays her as it thumps relentlessly against her chest. "I want to trust you, Patrick. Believe in you. I always did."

"So did I. And I'm sorry that I never fully could. I'm sorry I wasted so much time trying to prove that I didn't need you as much as I did….as much as I do. I tried to make up for it when we were together, after we said I love you, but…all I did was screw that up, too."

"It wasn't all bad between us, Patrick. We had good times, too. You made me very happy."

"I was only happy when I was with you. Maybe before my mother died, but…I didn't know the true meaning of the word until you let me into your life."

Laughing, she teases him. "You mean when I barged into it and you wouldn't leave me alone?"

"Yeah," he chuckles, fondly.

"I'm glad you didn't."

"Really? Even now?"

"Even now. Being loved by you….it's a joy I never expected…and I wouldn't trade it for anything. I'm very proud and very blessed to be in your heart, Patrick. It's so beautiful…your heart….it's just so good."

"Not as good as yours. Not as forgiving…as full of incredible gifts. To be in it…even if it was just for a little while…that's the greatest honor of my life."

She was extremely touched by his sentiment, and felt a little breathless at his words of adoration. "You're still in it, Patrick. You never left. You never will."

"So, how bout it then?"

"Patrick, I just don't -"

"Don't say no again, Robin. Please, baby. Just think about this. What are we doing here? We can't even talk to anyone but each other. What are we supposed to do? Live the rest of our lives like this? You know what that would make us, Robin? Selfish. Selfish to those people that are out there, that love each other and really can't be together. But we can. We can do this. One day at a time, we can."

Long moments pass as she sits there, silent. He says nothing. He doesn't prod. He doesn't beg. He doesn't demand an answer. He knows that she needs time, and he's giving it to her. Or so she assumes. He had yet to hang up the phone. Somewhere in the passing hours, the lights had come back on, and she keeps the phone to her ear as she blows out the candles, her nervous energy sending her into overdrive. She can't stop moving, and she can't sit still. And then suddenly, she starts talking again.

"I'm wearing your shirt. The one I wore the first night you spent the night at my apartment."

"You mean the night of seven times?"

"That's the one," she affirms, blushing at the memories of her and Patrick on her couch, the floor beside her couch, the kitchen counter, against her bedroom door, in the shower and finally, in her bed. Twice. They had been out of control, and she had never felt more satisfied in her entire life. After six months of desiring, yet not having one another - it was bound to happen. The time at the cabin had been wonderful, sweet and romantic. But that night, at her place…they held nothing back. All the nervous energy was gone. It was just them, and it was amazing.

"You were incredible…."

"So were you," she tells him, tracing his picture that accented her mantel, amongst several others of family and friends. She'd taken it when they went to the stock car races together. He was smiling like a little boy, relaxed and content in familiar territory. Like he belonged there.. That day, being with him, the feeling was mutual.

"It's black, right?"

"What?" Robin asks, distractedly, still gazing at the picture, caught up in the memory.

"My shirt? The one you're wearing?"

"Oh! Yeah," she shakes her head in disbelief. "How did you know that?"

"I remember a lot of things…most when it comes to you. And that night…that night's going to be etched in my brain when I'm old and gray, Dr. Scorpio."

Instead of laughing, she merely smiles, then recalls the reason why she brought up the shirt to begin with. Tracing the edge of the wearing material with her free hand, she remarks, "It's starting to unravel a little. The thread's coming loose on the edge of it. I wear it all the time…"

"You do?"

"Yeah, I only have a couple of your shirts here, and….I still can't bring myself to sleep in anything else anymore. It's like a security blanket or something. Silly, I know, but…I felt safe with you. Safer than I've felt in all my life….and I guess….wearing your clothes make me feel closer to you somehow. Like you're with me, even though you're really not."

"I'm always with you," he whispers, reassuringly.

"I feel like you are sometimes…but it's not the same as the real thing. I miss you holding me when I sleep…waking up to your kisses…I even miss your snore," she quips.

"Don't you mean your snoring, sweetheart? I don't snore!"

"Oh, that's what they all say," she rolls her eyes, feeling herself falling more and more in love with him, just by engaging in simple conversation. She missed it. God, she missed him!

"Look, Robin…if you need to think about this, it's okay. But I just want you to know that I'm not going to give up on this. I'm not going to back down and sink away and pretend like I'm okay with you moving on without me. The only way I could ever do that, is if you tell me that you would be happier if I left you alone. If that's the truth…I'll do it. For you, I'll do it."

"That's the craziest part about all of this. I don't want you to stop. I want you to say all of these things, even if they do scare me. Even if they do make me look at myself and ask the same questions you've been asking yourself and me all night. I just know that I love you, and all I have ever wanted is to find a way to make this work. But with the baby -"

"We can have a baby, Robin. Someday, we can. But can you honestly tell me right now that you're ready for it? That I am? That we are? Right here, right now, today? A baby makes three?"

She could just scream, 'yes' without thinking, but she doesn't. Instead, she considers the questions he's putting forth for her to answer. Questions that could make or break them. Seal their fate once and for all. In the end, the answer isn't so simple. "No."

"No, we're not. Someday, I think we can be. We will be. But I think that we need to work on this….on us first. Take that vacation we always wanted to, but never actually got to go on. Get to know each other again, like we are now. Live together and grow together, without holding back so much."

"Communicating?"

"That, too. All of it. One day at a time. And when we're ready, we can take those bigger steps. Together."

"You mean you actually want to try being on the same page? Walking the same pace?"

"It'll be new for us, but…at least it'll be us, right? And I want to go so many places with you, Robin. We are so not finished here. Not even close."

They weren't. She knew it as well as he did. What were they doing? Pining for each other from a short distance without even bothering to try to fix it? That wasn't them at all. They were fighters. And they always fought for each other. When had that stopped? Why?

"One day at a time?"

Met with silence, Robin furrows her eyebrows and speaks into the phone, bewildered. "Patrick?"

Checking the screen on her cell phone, she sees the dropped call message and hisses, jumping to her feet, pacing once again and she tries to call him back. Nothing. She curses aloud, stomping her foot and shaking her phone in frustration. "You have GOT to be kidding me! How could this happen?!"

The knock on the door only becomes a further irritation, as she only has one thing on her mind: Patrick. She doesn't consider the time, the lateness of the hour. She goes over to the land line to try it out, but before she can make it, the knocking becomes more persistent. "I'm coming!" she shouts, marching over to the door, and swinging it open, ready to give whoever it was a piece of her mind. "What do you -"

There he stood. Dripping wet, a glint of laughter in his eyes, and a nervous smile upon his lips - there he was., when all she wanted was to see him. Neither one speaks, nor moves at first. But then, just as he opens his mouth to explain himself, she makes her decision. In a movement that is familiar to them in the best, most special kind of way, she leaps forward, wrapping her arms around his neck, and her legs around his waist. It's not awkward or strange, even though it probably should be. But the only thing that either one of them feels is complete and utter relief, love and bliss as their mouths find their way back home, fusing together hungrily,. For the first time that night, words aren't needed at all.

To be continued….


End file.
